A Practical Joke
by QueenStrata
Summary: Wherein Crowley enacts his revenge on the angels who’d dared to laugh at him. //Sidefic to The End of the Beginning\\


A/N: Ladida. I need to stop writing Good Omens.

Warnings: I don't even know anymore.

Disclaimer: I own Pietra, Sarerlil, and…um…those other three angels. Yeah.

Summary: Wherein Crowley enacts his revenge on the angels who'd dared to laugh at him. Sidefic to _The End of the Beginning_.

A Practical Joke 

Crowley snickered heartily to himself as he finally finished his preparations. He knew without a doubt that this was bound to be the best joke he'd ever bothered to play on someone. Which wasn't saying much, as he usually would not use a mere joke as revenge, but he sincerely doubted that any of the angels around would appreciate murder or mild torture the way he did. Revenge itself was a spotty enough business without doing something truly unforgivable on top of it.

Fortunately for him, there were other demons wandering around and one of them was very fond of jokes. It's name was Pietra and, more often than not, it was seen wandering around New Earth in the guise of a beautiful human woman. Crowley found that hilarious, as he'd often seen angels eyeing Pietra appreciatively until they'd figured out that the demon was an it, not a she. Pietra, in turn, was amused by the way Crowley would pretend to flirt with anything humanoid.(1) It never failed to be surprised when Aziraphale found Crowley "flirting" and just stood to watch the drama unfold with a fond smile on his face. Needless to say, the two had become friends of a sort, and they were often found snickering to each other and comparing stories.

"You sure loverboy won't mind this one?" Pietra asked Crowley, sharply nudging him in the ribs. "I can't imagine even he would be amused by this."

"Aziraphale doesn't care what I do," Crowley returned with a casual shrug. "He figures that everything's good as long as I leave the others live and in one piece. I figure everything's good as long as Aziraphale isn't forcing me out of our bed."

"What d'you do when he does kick you out?" Pietra asked curiously.

"Hurt something usually. And make sure he doesn't find out."

"Shame on you, Crowley," Pietra snickered merrily.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Pietra sulked. "Shut up, you bloody idiot, before I gag you and all that. Can't you come up with something better?"

"I could threaten to tell Aziraphale that you want to fight him to the death, where the victor gets _me_," Crowley grumbled darkly.

Pietra's mouth shut with a snap. It, like Crowley, was not much of a fighter and it, like Crowley (and several other demons), would probably lose miserably in a fight against Aziraphale.

"Hey, they're coming!" Pietra whispered excitedly about a second after his mouth had shut.

"I know. Shut up." And Crowley leaned forward, yellow eyes gleaming with excitement behind his new sunglasses.(2) A grin spread across his face as he watched his three victims stumbling around, falling into trap after trap.

Once the final trap was cleared nearly five minutes later, twin evil grins spread across the two demons' faces. They watched in amusement as the angels turned to each other and began asking each other questions—which quickly degenerated into a shouting match.

"Let's go finish this already," Pietra snickered softly and stood up, flew over to their victims, and alighted near them. Crowley cleared his throat loudly and the angels turned to face them, all scowling.

"Hello," Crowley grinned. "Nice pitchfork. Reminds me of the old days." Pietra laughed uproariously.

"You," one of the angles snarled, a springy fake tail waving sporadically behind him. "_You_ did this."

"No kidding," Crowley snickered. "Funny thing, though, how _good_ you look in those devil costumes. I never would have thought it. It's quite an improvement, really."

The angels all tensed. There were a few moments of silence. Pietra suddenly stopped laughing, aware that everything had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

"We don't…_appreciate_ the joke, _demons_," one of the angels snarled, taking a step forward and placing its free hand on its hip. "And revenge isn't accepted well, you know. Not for something as petty as…as whatever reason you happen to be antagonizing us right now."

"Oh really?" Crowley sneered, trying to look as threatening as possible. He had a bad feeling that it wasn't working. "So I suppose a little joke like this will be enough to constitute a need for revenge, won't it? Should I watch my back for fear of whatever pathetic attack you three could muster?"

"No," the angel replied with a grin that would have made a demon proud. "All you have to worry about is fighting us three on two." The three angels immediately pulled out their swords, all grinning. Crowley snarled and pulled out the sword Aziraphale had given him; beside him, Pietra pulled his own weapon out, the blade shining in the daylight. "I think the odds are a little against you, aren't they?"

"Not as much as you'd like to think, Uzukiel," a voice interjected with a snarl. Crowley blinked, surprised at the sound of someone besides Aziraphale sticking up for him—and at the fact that it was Sarelil, of all beings.

"I thought you hated me?" Crowley called over his shoulder, now grinning like a maniac.

"I do," Sarelil's voice returned as the angel stepped up to Pietra's side. Pietra leered at him, a sentiment that Sarelil blatantly ignored. "But Aziraphale's with me, and he has to pause to calm down before he explodes."

"Good idea," Crowley said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to lose him now, would I?"

"I doubt it, as there isn't another being alive that could stand you," Sarelil muttered nastily. Crowley stuck his tongue out at him. Sarelil ignored that as well, and glared over at the three offending angels. "Uzukiel, just leave now, before Aziraphale pulls himself together."

"We're not done with the two of you yet," the angel who had been doing all the talking, apparently Uzukiel, growled before gesturing to his two friends and flying away.

Sarelil turned to Crowley once they had finally disappeared. "Someone's going to have to keep an eye on you, Crowley," he said. "You never know when he'll be back to attack you."

"That's what I have Aziraphale for," Crowley replied with a wicked grin. "And you know, someone will have to look after Pietra here as well. He was part of my madness and all."

"Yeah. Why don't you look after me, tough guy?" Pietra purred, wrapping it's arms around Sarelil's. "I'm sure I wouldn't have anything to worry about with _you_ around. And who knows? It could be fun."

"I have much better taste than certain _other_ angels," Sarelil said distastefully, prying Pietra off of him with his free hand. "I have no interest in you. Or any other demons, for that matter."

Pietra pouted.

"That's enough," Aziraphale's disapproving voice cut in, the angel giving Pietra a pointed glare. "Crowley…."

"Um…sorry?" Crowley said uncertainly.

"Don't apologize," Aziraphale sighed. "Just be careful for a while, okay? I don't want you getting hurt because a few angels don't have a sense of humor."

Crowley grinned. "Don't worry, angel. I'm not going to leave your side—at least, not for the next few hours."

Aziraphale smiled fondly back. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Out of sight of the couple, Pietra and Sarelil pulled faces and pretended to puke.

1) And a few things, like snakes, that weren't.

2) For those interested, Crowley had refrained from wearing his sunglasses throughout the Apocalypse and the following war because he didn't want to be known as the only demon who continued to cling to humanity. (He'd been very sore about losing his Bentley for the same reason.)

A/N: Wee. 3


End file.
